


The Thrill Of You Bursts Like Rain

by blanchtt



Series: Minific Prompts [9]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 01:42:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8425861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blanchtt/pseuds/blanchtt
Summary: The weather’s ugly enough outside for the house to creak and groan as it settles, holding up against the wind, and for the rain to drum hard against the roof, audible even from her room. It’s the type of weather Mrs. S makes her put her rainboots on for and hold tight to her hand when they walk to school, and the type of weather that means she can build a pillow fort with Uncle Felix in the living room and stay up with hot cocoa until they’re both told to go to bed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Helena + someone’s greatest fear

 

 

 

The weather’s ugly enough outside for the house to creak and groan as it settles, holding up against the wind, and for the rain to drum hard against the roof, audible even from her room. It’s the type of weather Mrs. S makes her put her rainboots on for and hold tight to her hand when they walk to school, and the type of weather that means she can build a pillow fort with Uncle Felix in the living room and stay up with hot cocoa until they’re both told to go to bed. 

 

Kira turns, head butting against her mother’s chin as she curls closer. But the bedside table lamp is on, casting warm golden light on her, her pillow, her mother sleeping next to her - they’re safe inside, warm and sleepy. Mostly. Her mother smells like sharp soap like Uncle Felix uses and clothes that have stayed too long in a wardrobe, thick and musty - but Kira smiles, burrows against her mother’s shoulder because the scent and the mane of hair and dark eyes are back, and so is _love you, monkey_ and being swung between her and Uncle Felix and picking out clothes together in the morning before school. 

 

There’s a splatter of hard raindrops on her window, tapping sharp, and Kira grins and wriggles backwards, feels her mother’s hand splayed on her back slip away. Rain is neat and it’s probably _just the wind shifting, love,_ she knows Mrs. S has explained before, and she’s not sleepy and wants to see it. 

 

Kira shifts, slips out from between her mother’s arms and from under the blanket, steps down onto the cold floor and makes sure not to get tangled in the sheets. And she nearly makes it out, except the book they’d been reading before her mother had drifted off to sleep tilts dangerously at the edge of the bed. And Kira watches as it wobbles, looses traction, and slips off the mattress - _oh no, it’s falling!_  She makes a grab for it, but it drops to the hardwood floor with a clatter, loud in the relative silence.

 

Kira crouches, watching and waiting and holding her breath. But her mother’s lip twitches, frowning in her sleep, and that’s it. She waits a few more moments, but no one else comes, either, no Uncle Felix or Mrs. S at the door poking their heads in. It’s late enough and the rain is loud enough so that the incident can pass unnoticed. Breathing out and grinning again, Kira makes sure to tip-toe the rest of the way, around the edge of her bed, across the room, and to the windowsill. 

 

She reaches up and out, draws back the curtains enough to see through and peers outside. The panes of glass radiate cold, and Kira holds tight to the sill, squints and watches the branches of the trees outside bow in the wind, the rain sweep in sheets against the window. The birdbath outside will be overflowing tomorrow for sure, and likely have a few stray leaves floating in it as well. 

 

All in all, it’s like any other stormy night, except that because everything outside is so dark, the woman is easy to see. 

 

There’s a trellis outside, one that’s covered in old ivy and that Mrs. S disapproves of but that Uncle Felix had argued to keep. Because it was pretty, he had said, but later they had put their heads together, just the two of them, and promised, pinkies wrapped around each other’s, not to tell Mrs. S that it was really because it was easy to climb if her mum ever wanted to come see her, yeah?

 

The lady must be climbing up the trellis - she’ll have to tell Uncle Felix and her mother how well that works! - and Kira watches as a pale face pokes over the edge of the window, peers inside uncertain, and then, with what she can only guess is a step up the rung of the trellis, the lady rises up and finally grins at her through the window. 

 

The lady looks just like her mother, but with lighter hair and maybe a little thinner. And the lady waves, smiling big despite being soaking wet, curls slicked against her cheek and her jacket dark with rain. It’s a sight she likes to see, and Kira raises a hand, waves back out of politenesses but also warmth, because something that sounds like _sestra_ flits through her mind, and even though she doesn’t know what it means, she knows it feels the same way _uncle_ and _mommy_ and _Mrs. S_ do when she says them.

 

Whenever it rains, Mrs. S lets Uncle Felix hold the umbrella because he’s the tallest, and she walks between them both because Mrs. S fusses over her getting even one curl wet. And so Kira smiles, reaches up on her tiptoes for the latch at the top of the window, because leaving the _sestra_ -lady outside in the rain isn’t what family does. 

 

Her fingertips just barely brush it, the lady watching her intently on the other side of the glass. She gives it another try, tries to stretch harder. Tongue poking out between her lips, Kira feels three fingers brush the latch, grab hold just barely enough to begin to push it toward the right, almost open, and then the lady can come inside and - 

 

“Monkey, what are you doing?”

 

Her mother’s voice cuts through the night, nearly startling her into falling, and heart pounding Kira lets go of the latch and the sill, drops back flat on her feet on the floor and looks away from the window. Her mother sits up in bed, eyes still narrow with sleep but watching her, a hand running through hair that’s flatter on one side than the other. 

 

“Nothing,” Kira replies. It’s a little lie, a baby one, just because she knows her mother wouldn’t understand, and she brushes away guilt at the thought of what Mrs. S would say if she knew she’d just lied. Uncle Felix, however, would likely have laughed, and her mother does, too. 

 

There’s a moment of silence before her mother smiles, crooked and approving. “Come back to bed,” she says with finality, turning down the covers and patting the empty space beside herself. “You’ll catch a cold.”

 

 _She’s not in trouble!_ “Coming,” Kira agrees with relief, and glances at the window before she draws the curtains back unevenly. But the lady is gone, nothing visible except raindrops on the glass. 

 

Kira pads across the room, slips into bed, her mother watching. “These old houses can get loud in storms, yeah?” Her voice is dark and rumbly with sleep, and Kira wonders if the lady in the window sounds like her, too, as her mother tugs the covers over them both. “But I’m here now.”

 

And that beats out just about everything else - hot cocoa or staying up late or _sestra_ -ladies in windows. Kira grins, falls back against her pillow, and feels her mother flop down next to her, bouncing the mattress extra-hard on purpose to make her laugh. “I know," she giggles as the lights are flicked off, as her mother pulls her close and presses a kiss to her temple, squishing her just a little with the roughness of her hug.

 

And it's good to hear, because Mrs. S had said that her mother was in the sunlight, once. But having her here, warm and sleepy in bed with her as it rains, is much, much nicer. 

 

 

 


End file.
